


Reciprocity

by blue_jack



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Minor D/s overtones, Sex Toys, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-17
Updated: 2010-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_jack/pseuds/blue_jack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something horribly fulfilling about watching his neighbor masturbate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reciprocity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gadgetorious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gadgetorious/gifts).



> For [](http://gadgetorious.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://gadgetorious.livejournal.com/)**gadgetorious** , because I love her. *hugs*
> 
> Inspired by her prompt “masturbation” for the [Quick 'n Dirrrrty Flash Challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/jim_and_bones/266507.html) over at the [](http://jim-and-bones.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://jim-and-bones.livejournal.com/)**jim_and_bones** comm. This was supposed to be a comment fic.
> 
> Sigh.
> 
> Beta’d by the lovely [](http://caitri.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://caitri.livejournal.com/)**caitri**.

[ ](http://s1141.photobucket.com/albums/n587/blue_jack25/?action=view&current=00008kp3.png)

  


There was something horribly fulfilling about watching his neighbor masturbate. It wasn’t that Leonard was a voyeur. Or at least, he’d never been before. He still technically wasn’t—he thought—since he didn’t try and watch Kirk _have sex with other people_.

Actually, on the occasions that had happened, Leonard had closed all the drapes and either run on his treadmill until he could barely hold himself up or watched movie after movie of senseless and yet satisfying violence.

So he wasn’t—he wasn’t _really_ a Peeping Tom. If anything, Kirk was the one to blame, because he was _obviously_ an exhibitionist. Why else would he masturbate in his bedroom with the window open in full view of—well, Leonard. As long as Leonard went into his guest room and turned off all the lights so he couldn’t be seen and stood in the exact east corner between eleven thirty and midnight on most nights. So really, it was Kirk’s fault.

And the first time had been a complete accident. He’d been looking for some old photographs that he’d promised he’d send his mother because her copies had been lost during the last move. The light bulb had gone out just as he was taking another box down, making him spill all the pictures on the ground, and hell, there’d been enough light coming in from the streetlamp and the full moon for Leonard to bend down and dump the photos back in the box. So he had, and then Kirk’s bathroom door had opened, and out walked Kirk covered only in a towel, and well…

So yeah, Leonard didn’t take responsibility for the first time. The next twenty six times, however, he would own up to. Privately, at least.

The thing was that Kirk was _inventive_. He didn’t do the same thing every night, and Leonard was sure— _sure_ —that if Kirk had, Leonard would’ve stopped watching. Because, it would have gotten boring after a while. Probably. But some nights were slow, all about Kirk teasing himself until Leonard wanted to yell in frustration, because he never let himself come until Kirk did, and he was going to go fucking insane if Kirk didn’t orgasm right the fuck now. And other nights were fast, when Kirk’s hand was a blur and the muscles in his arm were tight and bunched, his bicep flexing in a way that made Leonard’s thighs tense and twitch, and those nights left Leonard on a puddle on the floor, trying to catch his breath while his head rung with dizzy pleasure.

And then there were the nights when Kirk used both hands.

And then there were the nights when Kirk used toys.

It really—and yeah, he felt guilty about it sometimes, but—and sure, he hadn’t been able to look Kirk in the eye in _forever_ on the few occasions they bumped into each other—and alright, damn it, it really was annoying that he kind of sprang an instant erection anytime he even _thought_ of Kirk—but honestly, what was a man to do? Because, because it came back down to just how _fulfilling_ it was to share those moments with Kirk, to watch him come undone, his face relaxed and calm in the aftermath, arms limp at his side, to join Kirk in them, and he—Leonard didn’t know what he would do if he lost that.

He’d even _tried_ to wean himself off the mostly nightly viewings—and oh, how his staff hated him the next day if Kirk missed a night, his irritation with the world in general reaching whole new levels. He’d gone out, let his friends set him up with other people, had even asked out a few himself, but he’d finally given it up for a lost cause when he realized he was almost yelling at his date for the evening to get out of the fucking car already—what is taking so damn long? Your purse is right there!—so he could make it back to his house in time.

Probably not the high point of his life, but considering what he’d been up to recently, not the lowest either.

Leonard groaned, dropped his head in his hands. What was he doing? Had he really been reduced to—

His head snapped up when he thought he caught a glimpse of a light turning on, but it turned out to be the headlights of a passing car. Damn it!

But even as Leonard was glaring at the window, the light across the way clicked on, and Kirk walked into his bedroom, shedding clothes left and right.

Leonard blinked. That was new. Kirk was normally pretty tidy with his things. He watched as Kirk got down to just his boxers—never a bad thing—and wondered at the strange nervousness that was building inside of him. It was probably just because Kirk wasn’t following his standard routine. Change always made Leonard nervous, and there was also always the danger that Kirk might— _might_ —find out that he was being watched and then come over and try to kick Leonard’s ass for being a pervert, which was a terrifying and yet oddly arousing thought.

He glanced down at his . . . er, toy box. _This_ might very well be the low point of his life, but nonetheless, it was a necessity for his Kirk Watching hobby. Lubrication, wet wipes, tissues . . . and the toys. Because he never knew what Kirk might be in the mood for, and he needed to be prepared for every contingency. Okay, _some_ contingencies, because the box really wouldn’t fit anything more, and he damn well wasn’t going to get a bigger box. He wasn’t.

He looked back at Kirk to check if he’d—why the hell was he picking up his phone? Was he going out? Fuck, _was he going out_? Leonard almost got up from his chair, only to slump back down, because it wasn’t like he could exactly tell Kirk _not_ to pick up someone since he had a very faithful . . . whatever the hell Leonard was waiting for him at home.

But he didn’t want Kirk to have sex with someone else. He wanted him to—

Leonard jerked when the phone rang. Who the hell would be calling him so late? Didn’t they know it was way past time for any decent person to be getting ready for bed? He cleared his throat self-consciously, fidgeting on the chair and wishing the damn phone would turn off already. He looked at Kirk again and was glad to see that even though he was still holding the phone, he didn’t seem to be talking. Maybe the person he was calling wasn’t . . . at . . . home . . .

He nearly jumped when he heard the answering machine pick up. It couldn’t be . . . he wouldn’t—

“I know you’re there, Leonard.”

He whimpered, hands clutching the edges of the chair, eyes trying to bulge out of their sockets as he heard Kirk’s distinct raspy voice. His eyes darted to the window to see Kirk pointing right at him.

“I don’t care if you pick up or not, but you have five minutes to get your ass over here. Bring the box.” The click of the phone was thunderously loud.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Kirk who tossed his own phone onto his bed then raised his hand, fingers spread wide. Five minutes.

What the hell was he going to do?

\-----

Leonard nearly dropped the box when he reached over to ring the doorbell, hands shaking. He’d considered pretending he wasn’t home and not going over. Hell, he’d considered climbing out a window on the opposite side of the house and fleeing the city with only a suitcase to his name, too, but he’d abandoned that idea after a minute of hyperventilating.

Kirk knew. He _knew_.

 _How_ could he know? Leonard had been so careful! He’d always been in the guest room before Kirk got to his bedroom, and he’d always waited until Kirk had gone to clean up before he’d gotten out of his chair. How could this have happened? And what was Kirk going to do? Call the police on him? Beat him up?

His eyes widened. Murder him and bury him in the backyard?

Leonard almost made a run for it when the door started to open. He didn’t, but he really, really wanted to.

Cool, assessing blue eyes traveled up and down Leonard’s body, and he gulped, clutched the box a little closer and wondered if Kirk had hear the _thunk_ his penis had made when it had bumped against the cardboard just now, so happy to be in Kirk’s presence that he felt a little lightheaded from the sudden change in blood flow.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Come on in.”

He blinked, realized Kirk had been holding the door open for him for a while now, and he walked forward, almost tripping over the step in the process. Sadly, that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that his stumbling had made the contents of the toy box shift so a purple dildo was suddenly jutting out over the top.

He closed his eyes and wondered if he could turn invisible through sheer will alone.

Kirk snickered but didn’t say a thing as he closed the door, crowding Leonard although not touching, not even when Leonard found himself leaning forward that tiniest bit. Kirk was still just in his boxers. Holy fuck.

“This way.”

Leonard took a deep breath and followed, very pointedly did not look at Kirk’s naked back or the way his ass flexed in the thin material of his boxers as they walked up the stairs— _did not_ —and tried to think deflating thoughts.

All his efforts were wasted, however, when Kirk finally turned around, and Leonard realized they were in his bedroom. _In his bedroom_. Where Kirk did all his _stuff_.

“Alright, Leonard.” He yanked his eyes away from Kirk’s bed, swallowing heavily when he saw Kirk standing with his legs spread slightly and his hands resting on his hips. "You have to be wondering why I called you over here.”

"Er . . . yes?" he responded, looking away for a second, only to realize the purple dildo was still sticking out of the box. For heaven's sake, couldn't he retain even a modicum of dignity?

"Quite simply, I've had a shit day, Leonard. I'm not in the mood to put on a show tonight, might not be in the mood for the next couple of nights as a matter of fact. I'm fucking pissed at the world right now, and that includes you."

"Me?" he squeaked. In a very manly way.

"Yes, you. I'm sick and tired of having you watch me every night, just for you to ignore me during the day!"

"What? I don't—"

"Don't even try to deny it. I've known for a while now."

"I—I don’t know what you’re talking about. How would you—I mean, what are you—?"

"Hearing you screech into your driveway on three separate occasions, very conveniently right before I normally go to bed, was a dead giveaway.”

Leonard tried to think of a reason—any reason—why he’d be rushing back to his house at that time of night, but he’d never been very good at lying, and no matter how much he wished otherwise, the skill did not suddenly manifest itself within him.

“Also, you’re not the only one that can play the ‘turn off the lights and pretend you’re not there’ game."

And there it was, the sound of self-respect disappearing forever.

"So it's my turn tonight."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice higher-pitched than normal, the purple dildo suddenly seeming almost ominous from its vantage in the box.

"It's my turn to watch."

" _What_? Are you _crazy_? I'm not—"

"Strip."

"No!"

"Leonard. Horatio. McCoy."

He froze, one foot behind him as he'd been getting ready to turn and bolt, Kirk's tone of voice making him feel small and guilty. He hadn't even known Kirk knew his middle name.

"I'm not going bother with the threats of closing the blinds, or finding my kicks somewhere else, or anything like that. I just want some reciprocity. It's only fair. I won't even touch you. I'm just going to watch."

"I don't—"

"Take off your clothes, Leonard."

“I’m not—”

“ _Now_.”

Leonard felt like a deer in headlights, mesmerized by Kirk's eyes. He didn't have to do it. He could turn around and leave and pretend none of it had ever happened. It wasn't like Kirk could _make_ him—he shivered at the thought, stomach tensing—but . . .

Kirk hadn’t made the threats explicit, but they were still there. He _knew_. But he’d still done all those things.

Which proved Leonard was completely right about Kirk’s exhibitionist tendencies.

But more importantly, Kirk had been performing for _him_. For Leonard.

The box fell to the ground with a horrendously loud clatter . . . _things_ flying everywhere. But Leonard only vaguely noticed, still trapped in Kirk’s stare, his fingers trembling as they reached for the bottom of his shirt, his erection ridiculously obvious in his sweatpants.

He was naked much faster than he’d have liked, hands clenched into fists to keep from covering up his groin, a humiliation which would have been the straw that broke the camel's back.

Kirk whistled, low and appreciatively. "I feel cheated now. I should've made you do this weeks ago. Turn around. Let me see the rest of you."

Leonard turned stiffly, not sure if it was better or worse now that he couldn't see the expression on Kirk's face.

Okay, it was worse. Much worse. Kirk didn't say anything, didn't whistle again or make a sound, and Leonard could feel the muscles in his back and shoulders twitching, the urge to escape becoming almost overpowering. He could go. He didn't have to stay or listen to what Kirk told him to do. He could—

"Bend over."

Leonard jerked, could feel his whole body tense, and that was it. He couldn't do it. He didn't know why he'd thought he could, or why he'd even wanted to try, didn't know how _Kirk_ had been able to be so unashamedly unapologetic about doing those things to himself in front of an audience, but there was no way that Leonard could do something like that. Not even for Kirk.

He turned his head to glare over his shoulder. "I don't know who the hell you think you are—"

Kirk was less than five feet behind him, had somehow managed to pull a chair over without Leonard hearing, and he was sitting there, legs spread, boxers low on his thighs, masturbating, getting off to the sight of Leonard's naked body. Leonard couldn’t even breathe for a second as he took the sight in, Kirk's hand wrapped around a dick that had looked a lot smaller and less intimidating when he was a house away.

"Bend over, Leonard," Kirk repeated, his voice husky, eyes half-hidden. "I want to be able to remember this the next time I'm fantasizing about fucking you."

Fuck. Oh, fuck. He shuddered as he imagined what that would be like, _really_ imagined it in a way he'd never truly allowed himself to do, even when he'd used those damn toys, safe behind his window and the knowledge that Kirk would never know.

“You have the most gorgeous ass, Leonard. I totally didn’t realize it before because of those baggy pants you wear all the time, but it’s high and round, and I bet it would feel amazing—”

“Will you—you’re not touching my ass!” Leonard said defiantly, although his objection wasn’t as effective as it could’ve been since he was watching Kirk’s hand go up and down and up and down, and whatever reaction he’d expected from Kirk, it definitely hadn’t been that lazy smile or the nod of his head. Not that he was disappointed. Because he wasn’t.

“That’s right. I won’t lay a hand on that sure-to-be tight ass of yours, even if some of these toys are a lot more adventurous than I would’ve given you credit for. Not tonight anyway. Tonight, you’re giving me a show. So bend over, baby. Part those sweet cheeks of yours and let me see what you’ve got.”

“Why do I have to— _you_ never—”

“That’s what you get for hiding. You never asked, Leonard. I would’ve done whatever you wanted if you'd asked me to.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, to the blatant honesty in Kirk’s eyes, to the way Kirk was so unabashedly forthright in his requests, while Leonard was . . .

“I don’t—I don’t think I can,” Leonard said, his voice low, defeated almost, and he felt old suddenly, wondered what he’d thought he was doing coming over here, and—

“Sure you can, Leonard,” and he looked back at Kirk at the surprising gentleness in his voice. “Hell, this is your chance! Don’t you want some payback?” he asked, cajoling and mischievous. “You want me to suffer for all the times I teased you, all the times I kept going on and on even though I could’ve come in less than five minutes. You want to show me what I can’t have, no matter how much I want it, or how easy it would be to reach out and touch you, because I said I wouldn’t tonight, and you’re going to make me regret making such a stupid promise in the first place.”

“I—” He didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know if he could.

“C’mon, Leonard. You can do it; I know you can. Please.” Kirk’s smile exuded confidence, not that he would get his way, but that Leonard could do whatever he set his mind to. “Please.”

He swallowed around a dry throat, was bending down before he’d even given his body conscious permission, each inch traveled feeling like a mile. He couldn’t stop the shaking of his body, was almost lightheaded by the time his chest was virtually parallel to the floor, and his hands felt heavy and clumsy as he reached behind him and did exactly what Kirk wanted him to do.

He was glad that he couldn’t see Kirk’s expression then, kept his eyes firmly closed even though there was no one in front of him. He worried his heart was beating too fast, his head pounding, and he wondered if he were suffering from a sudden stroke—

“Perfect,” Kirk sighed, long and drawn out, the hitch in his breathing reassuring Leonard more than he would’ve believed possible. “Fucking perfect.”

Leonard stayed in that position for several seconds, bent over and ass cheeks pulled wide, felt nervous and mortified and so fucking turned on that his cock was aching for attention, each nervous shift of weight from foot to foot making his cock rub against his stomach, precome smearing against his skin. He hadn’t been so conscious of his ass in years, not even when he’d been fucking himself with one of those damn toys, most of his attention on Kirk across the way and what he’d been doing to himself at the time. But now both Kirk’s and his focus was on Leonard’s ass, on the furled flesh that contracted and released with increasing urgency, the longer Kirk looked at it.

He was so far out of his depth that he wanted—wanted Kirk to tell him what to do, to reveal how Leonard could elicit that same magnitude of response from Kirk that Kirk had always evoked in him.

“Suck on your fingers, Leonard.” And he moaned, something in him relaxing as Kirk directed him without Leonard needing to prompt or ask him. “Get ‘em as wet as you can, because I want to see just how tight you are, how much you love having something fucking you—both fingers, Leonard. Both of them, don’t start with one. Oh, fuck, just like that, _just like that_. Fuck. _Fuck_.”

Leonard’s mouth fell open, and he made a choked sound as he complied, bore down on his two fingers and gasped at the shivery pain. He couldn’t decipher the noise Kirk made then, could barely hear it over his own sharp breaths, his body stretching uncomfortably around fingers that he knew weren’t as large as they suddenly seemed.

It had to be because Kirk was watching, why everything felt so different, much more intense and . . . satisfying. He shuddered, his fingers sinking in deeper without any prompting. No wonder Kirk let him watch.

“Oh, fuck. You should see this, Leonard—Leo, Len? Shit, Leonard doesn’t do you justice, man. Leonard isn’t the name of someone who looks so fucking incredible bent over with his fingers up his ass.”

An unexpected bark of laughter escaped without him meaning to. He hadn’t had a real conversation with Kirk in over a month, what with the guilt of knowing what Kirk looked like naked with his legs spread and fucking himself with a dildo and all, not to mention the rampant erections that sprang up whenever Leonard got within prime viewing distance. He’d forgotten how irreverent and comical Kirk could be. He’d forgotten how much he’d enjoyed just talking to him whenever the opportunity presented itself.

The laughter made him relax slightly, let his fingers slide that much further while he panted for breath, because saliva was a poor substitute for actual lube, no matter that excitement morphed the pain to something more bearable and almost addictive. He didn’t know why he stretched his fingers apart—morbid curiosity, maybe, or simply the knowledge that it would make Kirk _respond_ to him when he saw what Leonard was doing—

He whimpered at the burning sensation, the pleasure a shock to his confused senses, making his body jerk, his fingers pulling out slightly as a consequence, causing the stretch to become even greater.

“Leonard.” He heard the thud that time as the chair shifted, realized Kirk had gotten closer when he heard him swallow before he began speaking once more, his voice rueful and rough and tinged with self-deprecating humor. “You are . . . surprisingly a lot better at this than I thought you were going to be. Are you sure—maybe we should revisit the whole not-touching thing again.”

“You don’t really think I’m going to agree to that, do you?” He felt dizzy and smug and embarrassingly gratified by the raspy quality of Kirk’s voice, not to mention absolutely ridiculous that Kirk was having a conversation with his ass, but that didn’t stop him from adding another finger, from snatching anything else he might have said out of his own mouth as red flared behind his closed eyes and his cock bumped against his bent stomach.

“I think you never get what you don’t ask for.” Leonard’s eyes snapped open when he heard the proximity of Kirk’s voice, realized that Kirk was right behind him. He stood with a jolt, wincing when his fingers came free, whirled around to see Kirk on his knees, face pretty much level with Leonard’s dick—which meant it had been pretty much level with his _ass_ as he _fucking_ himself with _three fingers_ —and nearly fell when he stumbled backward.

“What the hell are you—?”

“Leonard. Let me touch you.”

“No!” he said, knew he was objecting more because Kirk had startled him and because Kirk’s comment had stung more than Kirk could have known. “That wasn’t the deal, and that’s not why I came over—”

“Then why did you come over?” Kirk stood up, completely naked now, and advanced towards him, making Leonard fall back because he wasn’t sure how he felt about having Kirk that close to him.

“Because you—” _Because you told me to_ , didn’t seem like the smartest answer all things considering.

“Why?”

Leonard’s back hit the wall.

“Because I thought I owed you an explan—”

“You don’t _owe_ me anything.” Kirk frowned, crowded Leonard until he felt almost suffocated. “I knew you were watching. I _wanted_ you to watch. I said I wanted reciprocity, not—not _payment_.”

“That’s not what I meant!” he said, his voice rising in response to Kirk’s.

“Then what _do_ you mean?” Kirk demanded, the first hints of anger darkening his face.

“I meant that I—I was worried you were—”

“ _Worried_? Just what the hell did you think I was going to—”

“Will you give me a damn second to explain myself—”

“Why are you here, Leonard?”

“I don’t know!” he yelled, feeling an almost overwhelming urge to shove Kirk off of him. “You called! I came because you called!”

Kirk blinked several times, the frown fading even as Leonard’s scowl got bigger, and he crossed his arms over his chest defensively, heart sinking. He shouldn’t have said that. He knew it already. It was like opening the door to the traveling vacuum salesman: there was no way he was getting rid of Kirk now that he was inside.

Fuck. Maybe Kirk wouldn’t—

And then Kirk smiled, his eyes crinkling, his expression so clearly delighted that Leonard knew Kirk understood _exactly_ what he’d been saying.

“Okay, I won’t touch you this time.” Kirk sounded altogether too pleased with himself, the implication of “next time” making Leonard want to cringe. He stepped back, let Leonard pull away from the wall as he watched Kirk move around the room, an obnoxiously happy smile on his face. “Get on the bed, Leonard.”

“What?” he asked, face scrunched up, trying to follow the apparent non-sequitur. At least Kirk wasn’t throwing his words in his face—

“Yup, flat on your back.”

Leonard was all set to ask him what the ever-loving hell Kirk thought he was talking about, but his voice withered in his throat. Kirk was looking into Leonard’s toy box. Shit.

“You know,” Kirk said, crouching down and rummaging around, “you’re going to give me an inferiority complex before we even get started.” He pulled out one toy that Leonard could’ve _sworn_ he’d taken out of the box before he’d come over—along with a few others that he hadn’t wanted Kirk to see—but apparently hadn’t because he’d been too flustered to pay enough attention.

“I’ve never used that one,” Leonard said quickly.

“Sure.”

Leonard flushed at Kirk’s easygoing agreement, knowing Kirk didn’t believe him, knowing he wouldn’t have believed him either.

“What about this one?” Kirk held up a much smaller dildo with a flared bottom, and what exactly was Leonard supposed to say to that? No, he’d never seen that before in his life? Yes, he’d spent way too many evenings with that thing inside of his ass while he watched Kirk a house away doing something similar? Was there really a good answer here?

“I’m just going to take your silence as a yes.” Kirk grinned, plucked the conveniently placed tube of lubrication out of the box as well and stood up.

Leonard glared down at his traitorous cock which had softened to some degree after all the talking but had immediately gone back to full mast once he’d seen Kirk with a dildo in his hand. His body’s response was absolutely Pavlovian.

“On the bed, Leonard!” The picture Kirk made as he slicked up the toy in his hand was going to be frozen in his brain for the rest of his life, Leonard was sure of it.

“I said no touching!” His protest probably would have had more effect if he hadn’t just fucking pretty much admitted he would do whatever Kirk wanted, wasn’t already walking to the bed. A large part of him wanted to keep arguing, wanted to make Kirk drag him kicking and screaming every step of the way. But then there was that small but extremely vocal part that wanted nothing more than to surrender, and it was to that voice that he listened, his shoulders lightening with each passing second, his heart racing as he considered what would happen next.

“Oh, I’m not going to touch you,” Kirk assured him, the dildo glinting wetly. “Think of this as . . . assisted masturbation!”

“You are an idiot.” It was a true statement, but Leonard didn’t want to think about what that made him, so he didn’t, lay on his back and got comfortable, tried to figure out how in the hell he’d gotten himself in that situation in the first place and wondered at the part of him that relaxed so gratefully each time Kirk told him what to do.

“But I’m _your_ idiot.” Kirk settled between his legs.

“I never said that—” Leonard gasped as Kirk pushed the dildo into him without warning, his back arching off the bed as his fingers grabbed onto the sheets beneath him.

“Just to be clear,” Kirk said, the innocent expression on his face at odds with the evil way he rolled his wrist, causing the dildo to rotate and stretch Leonard’s ring of muscle in a way that had him trying to curl up into a ball and splay himself out simultaneously, his body jerking uncontrollably at the conflicting impulses. “I’m not touching you.” He jabbed the tip against Leonard’s prostate during the next revolution, and Leonard shouted, hips bucking, eyes wild, heels digging into the mattress.

“Fu-fuck you,” Leonard managed, his blood roaring in his ears as he tried to decide if it was pleasure or pain he was feeling.

Damn Kirk and all his masturbating! Leonard groaned as Kirk located his prostate again with frightening precision, back bowing, felt like he’d been hit with lightning as electricity careened in jagged bolts through his body. The bastard obviously had too much practice with this.

“Yeah . . .” Kirk drawled, his bicep flexing as he began to fuck Leonard with the dildo, driving, purposeful thrusts as if he meant to make Leonard orgasm within the next two minutes or he’d consider it a personal failure, “I think I remember you saying no to that unfortunately.”

Leonard whined helplessly, twisting on the bed, not trying to get away—he wasn’t sure what he was trying to do actually, maybe catch his breath, or gather the last dredges of his control before it shattered completely. He didn’t know, couldn’t think, couldn’t stop gasping and moaning like he was dying under Kirk’s skillful hands. Masturbation had never felt like this.

“Also, just so you know, this doesn’t count as touching you either since you’re the one touching me.” Kirk used his free hand to gesture to Leonard’s knees, which had somehow decided on their own that attempting to squeeze the circulation out of Kirk’s arms was proper retribution for wreaking havoc on his body. He flushed dark red, tried to get the breath to eke out an apology as he flung his legs outward, called out in a truly humiliating manner instead as that changed the angle of Kirk’s next thrust.

Leonard wished he could cover his face, couldn’t even take comfort in the tense line of Kirk’s jaw, the beads of perspiration on his forehead that revealed that Kirk wasn’t as unaffected as he seemed, not when it was all he could do to keep himself from cracking under the strain, from begging Kirk to touch him because there was no way he could let go of the only support he had and touch himself.

“What? No more comebacks?” Kirk asked, rolling his wrist once more, stopping with the dildo shoved up against Leonard’s prostate so Leonard cried out, neck arched and exposed as his body shook again and again. “No brilliant repartee—”

“Kirk. Jim,” Leonard whispered, eyes clenched shut, heart hammering and body aching for something, for more. “I . . . please.” Or at least he thought he said it. He knew he’d mouthed the word if nothing else, but Kirk wasn’t saying anything, wasn’t _doing_ anything, and he didn’t know if he would have to say it again, if he even could—

“I can touch you?”

Leonard nodded jerkily, eyes still closed because he couldn’t look, he couldn’t, his fingers numb from the strength of his grip on the sheets. He had the sneaking suspicion that he might owe Kirk a replacement set, thought he’d heard a tearing sound a while back, wasn’t really planning on mentioning it, however, until _afterward_.

The whoop Kirk made was extremely loud, and it made Leonard’s head snap around just in time to see Kirk put his hands on either side of Leonard’s waist and begin to crawl up his body.

“You have no idea, Leonard,” Kirk said, eyes blazing, voice raw, “the things I want to do to you.”

Leonard shuddered, letting loose a truly disgraceful whine of anticipation, wrapped his legs around Kirk and pulled him down.

It was a combination of a lot of things really. The look in Kirk’s eyes; the insanely thorough job Kirk had done driving him to the edge of orgasm; the unexpected jolt against his prostate as Kirk’s knee bumped against the base of the dildo; the fact that Kirk grazed his cock at precisely that same instant, the first real contact that his poor cock had experienced all night long . . . a lot of things. It wasn’t like Leonard had known he was that _that_ close. It wasn’t like he’d meant to come.

But he did. Rather spectacularly actually, pleasure whitening out his vision. Rather copiously as well apparently, drops flying across his stomach and Kirk’s chest and the underside of Kirk’s chin.

“Um. Wow,” Kirk said at last into the awful quiet after Leonard had recovered enough to realize what had just happened, his body stiffening in horror. Kirk blinked over and over again, and Leonard flinched when a bead of come slid off Kirk’s chin and plopped onto Leonard’s chest.

\-----

Leonard decided he needed to move. That had to be proper etiquette after pretty much coming on someone’s face and then hightailing it out of there with just a mumbled apology and without an offer of . . . reciprocation. Either that or barricading himself inside the house and becoming a hermit so there was never ever a chance of seeing Kirk ever, ever again.

He moaned, burrowing his face in his arms on top of the counter. He hadn’t known he could put on his clothes that fast. Not that he’d done that great a job since he couldn’t find the boxers he’d been wearing last night, and the shirt had been inside-out. He was pretty sure he’d had on shoes at some point, too, but whatever.

He’d left the toy box at Kirk’s as well.

He tried to burrow deeper.

What was he going to say? What _could_ he say? Nothing! He should’ve stayed. Why hadn’t he stayed? _What the hell was wrong with him that he hadn’t stayed?_

Moving? Or seclusion? _Moving_? Or _seclusion_? There were pros and cons to both, but—

He jerked when the phone rang, counted down the rings with dread until the machine finally picked up.

“I know you’re there, Leonard.”

He cringed at Kirk’s voice, even though it sounded more amused than anything.

“About last night . . .”

No, no, no, he didn’t want to talk about it! He didn’t want _Kirk_ to talk about it!

“I had no idea you could run that fast.”

Leonard bet Kirk hadn’t known he could come that fast either.

“You should’ve stayed.”

He knew that. Leonard knocked his head against the granite. He _knew_.

“You missed out on one _intense_ masturbation session.”

Kirk . . . what?

“I have to say that you have some very, _very_ nice toys.”

Leonard’s head popped up and his jaw dropped.

“I know it’s not our usual time, but . . . five minutes, Leonard, or I’m coming over there.”

Leonard listened to the dial tone right before the machine shut off, blinked, tried to understand what the hell had just happened. Five minutes? Kirk wanted to see him again? Really? After last night? _Really_? _Why_?

He almost fell off his stool when the phone rang once again.

“Oh, and by the way, I’m not making any promises this time around.”

Leonard made it over to Kirk’s house in less than one.


End file.
